


monster (hunter)

by mafia_V



Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, dragon!Tango, minecraft personas ONLY, somewhat graphic cow murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mafia_V/pseuds/mafia_V
Summary: Preestablished Zedaph/Impulse, with both of them pining after Tango.Tango is a monster hunter, and a damned good one. But he is also secretly a monster, himself.
Relationships: ImpulseSV/Tango Tek, ImpulseSV/Zedaph, ImpulseSV/Zedaph/Tango Tek, Zedaph/Tango Tek
Comments: 17
Kudos: 131





	monster (hunter)

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to the mafia. you know who you are ;)

**_No. STAY BACK._ **

Tango's voice is vicious, something dark and unhinged rumbling just under the surface. Impulse and Zedaph halt in their tracks, sharing a glance. Even angry as he sounds, Tango is clutching at the wound with shaking hands, and he looks— he looks _afraid_ . Impulse doesn't know if Zedaph can understand his exact though process, but Tango is their _best friend_. They have to help him. Zedaph nods, steely determination sparking in his pretty eyes, and he and Impulse move forward as one.

**_NO,_ ** Tango roars, but he can't move much in his state and, thanks to him, Impulse and Zedaph are totally fine after the attack. They kneel on either side of him, and Zed holds him down with tears in his eyes, and Impulse breaks out a shulker box of first aid supplies and gets to work around Tango's rapidly weakening struggling.

Tango's glowing eyes slip shut, concerningly dark tears sliding down his face, and through whatever growl is coloring his voice, whispers, **_please._ **

Pausing for a moment in his ministrations, Impulse runs bloody fingers through Tango's grimy hair. "Shh," he murmurs. "It'll be alright."

"Yeah, we've got you," Zedaph supplies, not loosening his hold but stroking his thumb back and forth in a comforting gesture.

But Tango begins struggling anew, still sluggish and slowing. The odd tears flow, his face pinched in a pained expression. **_no…_ ** Tango whimpers.

Impulse continues to pet Tango's hair as his consciousness fades. When he stops moving, Zedaph relaxes his arms and sits back. He has tears of his own falling down his face, and Impulse sniffles against the burning in his own eyes. Tango's body goes lax under their hands, and Impulse gets back to work staunching the blood flow. "Awful as this is…" Zedaph begins, and Impulse looks up at him in acknowledgement before returning to the task at hand. "It's… kind of nice, to be able to take care of him after a fight, for once."

"Yeah," Impulse sighs. "I hate how he always hides away with his injuries. Like, let us _help_ you!" Impulse's voice breaks on the last, and Zedaph pats his shoulder as he finally starts to cry. "I just— even after everything— and we never know how close we might be to _losing him_ —"

Zedaph leans over and wraps him in a hug, then nudges him aside and takes over with trying to heal Tango. "I know," he says shakily. "I know." Impulse leans against Zedaph's back, pressing his face into the fabric of his soft t-shirt, and wrapping his arms around Zedaph's waist. Zedaph sighs and draws back from Tango's limp form, assured now that the bleeding has stopped, leaving his hands resting gently on Tango's torso and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. "We need to talk to him soon." Impulse hums in question. "…About how we feel about him," Zedaph says.

Impulse tenses, and then deflates. "Yeah, you're probably right." He turns his face so that his cheek lays against Zedaph's shoulder blade. "I… If something were to happen… I would want him to know."

"Me too."

The two of them just sit there for a moment in silence, listening to Tango's and each other's breathing. Zedaph closes his eyes and lays a hand over Impulse's, and Impulse squeezes him around the waist. They bask in knowing that they're alive, that Tango is alive, and the horrific monster Tango had defeated is a pile of desiccated flesh somewhere beyond in the trees.

At least, until Tango's chest stops moving.

Zedaph hardly notices, at first; it's been a very long few hours, and he's exhausted. but then it occurs to him that the hand lying on Tango's chest is no longer moving, and a spike of primal panic wakes him up so thoroughly that he flinches, jostling Impulse by accident.

"No," he utters, and Impulse peers over his shoulder and then goes still. Zedaph glances at him, at the dawning horror on his face, and a cold little bubble of hurt bursts in his chest.

Then Tango's body jolts, and a whole new kind of horror begins.

Tango's head lolls to the side and his back arches off the ground. A sickening _CRACK_ sounds, and he jerks and then ragdolls onto his side. Zedaph and Impulse scramble back, unable to look away as Tango's body contorts and then begins to _change_ . His arms and legs snap and twist, sharp spines grow from his back, and his _skull_ — Zedaph and Impulse retreat to the treeline and cower against each other. They can't bare to watch any longer; just the noise is bad enough. Horrifying crunching, grinding, and snapping sounds echo in the forest, with irregular strangled cries of pain or fury. Zedaph clutches Impulse close to his chest, and Impulse digs his fingernails into the fabric at Zedaph's shoulders.

A shrill scream, like a dying creature, breaks through the air, and then the world goes silent except for _something_ panting heavily from the other side of Zedaph and Impulse's tree. Thunderous footsteps shake the ground, and a sound like a whiplash but _bigger_ cracks through the air, shortly followed by the creaking crash of a felled tree. It's not far from where Zed and Impulse are hiding. The clearing Tango had been in falls silent once more.

Then, a great black snout pokes around the tree. Two wicked horns spike up from a spot shortly behind the nostrils, and a horrible sharp beak protects the front of the creature's mouth. Its nostrils flare as it smells the air, smells _them_ , and then its lips curl into a snarl. Its teeth are _huge_. Zedaph turns to stand between the beast and Impulse, stepping backwards and trying to usher his boyfriend away from it. Its head comes fully around the big trunk of the tree, then; it's almost as big as Zedaph is tall, with large spikes curving back from near its temples and a magnificent crest sweeping back over its neck. Two long, thick horns rise from the sides of the crest, twisting up and standing tall. Iridescent black scales shimmer in the late afternoon light filtering through the canopy. It opens its eyes, third eyelid sweeping briefly across the surfaces of them, and the sunlight gleams off of glowing red.

"Wait," Impulse says.

The beast turns its head to look right at them, a growl bubbling low in its chest. Zedaph swallows hard against a dry throat and tries to push Impulse further back. The beast lumbers around the tree and huffs to catch their scent again. Zedaph's heart hammers in his chest. His legs are frozen, eyes locked on those terrible teeth. He can't move as the beast opens its maw, and orange light begins to build behind the thick protective scales of its long neck.

"Wait, Zed—"

The light grows brighter, brighter, and Zedaph can see fire starting to crawl up the back of the creature's throat. Its growl is still present, still rattling Zedaph's very bones. Zedaph can't move. Zedaph can't move Impulse. The fire licks at the beast's awful teeth, and it inhales, ready to release.

_"ZED!"_

Impulse wraps his arms up underneath Zedaph's and around his shoulders and forcibly drags him around the tree. Dragonfire bursts forth, imprecisely scorching the bases of the trees and the place they were standing a moment ago. Flame catches in the canopy and begins to spread.

Impulse throws himself on top of Zedaph to protect him against the shards of wood that fly from the impact of the beast’s attack. When the shrapnel stops falling, he props himself up and glares down at Zedaph. “What the hell was that! We could have both been killed–”

Zedaph opens his eyes, and Impulse falters. Fresh tears slide past his temples and into his hair. His chin wobbles, and his lips are pressed tightly together, and all the anger and fear leaves Impulse’s body. He leans down, rests his forehead against Zedaph’s, and sighs, curling his fingers into Zedaph’s wild blond hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers roughly.

“It’s okay.” Zedaph’s voice betrays his fear and sadness. Impulse kisses the tip of his nose, and Zedaph smiles, a small, wobbly little thing.

A low rumble from close by reminds them of the danger at hand. Zedaph scoots back and sits up, then grabs Impulse’s hand and scrambles to his feet. Impulse is dragged along as Zedaph takes off as quietly as he can to the other side of the clearing and into the forest proper. He’d always been the braver of the two of them, when it came to scooping Impulse up and knowing when to face danger or book it. A deafening roar thunders from behind them, and the rumble of heavy running steps and the crash of falling trees joins the hissing crackle of the forest on fire. The beast is gaining on them quickly, and Zedaph knows that without Tango, against such a creature they have no defense.

_Without Tango_. His heart aches.

Impulse is gripping his hand tightly, panting heavily as he tries to keep up. “Zed–” he wheezes, “Zed, wait, stop.” Impulse stops running, and Zedaph is yanked to a halt alongside him. “Wait.” Impulse lets go, braces his hands on his knees, and tries to catch his breath. Zedaph watches the forest, too bright for dusk, very closely, listening fearfully to the thundering gallop of the creature grow closer and closer.

Impulse sucks in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the smoke creeping through the air, then grabs Zedaph by the shoulders. “Zed,” he says forcefully, catching and holding Zedaph’s gaze.

“What? We should be trying to get away from–”

“Zed, _that’s Tango_.”

Zedaph’s whole world grinds to a stop.

Impulse searches his eyes. “We have to _help_ him,” he says, voice shaking, and Zedaph watches as the trees behind him are shouldered aside by the beast– by _Tango_.

Tango skids to a stop, then plants his feet and lowers his head in a stance Zedaph recognizes from before. Indeed, Tango drops open his maw and begins to charge another fire blast. Impulse goes rigid, and Zedaph clutches his shoulders. Slowly, Zedaph steps around and in front of Impulse. He watches the blaze build up in Tango’s throat, feels Impulse so tense against his back. He steps forward, and Impulse holds onto his shirt until he walks too far. Tango snarls as the fire starts to creep up toward his teeth.

“Zed…” Impulse’s voice quakes.

Slowly, Zedaph raises a trembling hand, his eyes still on the fire in Tango’s mouth. He glances up at those empty glowing eyes, and takes the final step, and gently, gently, lays his hand on Tango’s nose.

Tango grunts and huffs out a breath, smoke curling up from his nostrils. He blinks, and Zedaph can see hazy confusion in his eyes. The fire in his mouth recedes, just a little. Impulse is suddenly by Zedaph’s side, and he places his hand next to Zedaph’s on Tango’s nose. Tango puffs again. Impulse leans against Zedaph’s side. Suddenly Tango rears back, and the fire in his mouth brightens once more. Zedaph and Impulse hold tightly onto each other, off balance and startled by the movement. Tango drops hard back onto his feet, then turns and incinerates a cow that wandered around the trees next to them.

The smell of charred beef fills the air. Impulse and Zedaph wince. The poor thing never even got a chance to scream. Tango sniffs at the pile of scorched flesh, then snaps it up in his jaws and tilts his head back to swallow, bones and all. Zedaph feels a little sick. Though, he supposes, it’s not too different from what hermits normally do to cows for steak…

Tango licks his chops after he’s gotten down his meal, and then turns back toward them. His eyes glitter with curiosity. Zedaph reaches out again, and this time Tango meets his hand halfway. He nudges against Zedaph’s hand, and Impulses when he lifts it, and the texture of his scales is almost soft, in a way. His beak is much more rough, feeling almost akin to obsidian. Tango pokes past their hands, and then jams his snout directly into Zedaph’s abdomen.

“Oof,” he wheezes, curing down around Tango’s face and laying a hand between his eyes. He feels Impulse’s own hand rest on his back, rubbing soothing circles. Tango sniffs Zedaph’s torso, and then up under his chin, and then his nose tracks downward–

“Hey!” Zedaph taps between Tango’s eyes, and he grunts and turns away from the inappropriate spot he was just smelling. Zedaph and Impulse share a glance, and then Impulse cracks a smile, and then they’re both laughing breathlessly, hanging onto each other while Tango goes back to his snuffling. Zedaph watches Impulse’s handsome face twist from laughter to overwhelmed tears, and feels himself close to following. Zedaph pulls Impulse close and kisses his temple, taking a deep breath to savor the moment. Tango whines and prods his way between them, though only the end of his muzzle will fit in the tight space.

Impulse reaches over and pets the spot between Tango’s eyes. He lifts his head from Zedaph’s shoulder and watches Tango blink with each pass of his fingers. Zedaph chuckles, emotion tightening his throat. Tango lets out a low hum, his eyes closing for longer every time.

“Hey,” Zedaph murmurs against Impulse’s hair.

“Hm?”

Zedaph catches Impulse’s hand in his own and gives it a squeeze. “We should get him home.”

Impulse sniffles. “Yeah, you’re right. The fire is getting closer, too.”

They had made decent headway while Tango was distracted, but now the fire was spreading further and further throughout the forest. Zedaph nods in agreement. Tango whines and nudges the whole side of his face against the two of them, knocking them off balance. Impulse laughs wetly and pets him a little more.

“How are we going to get him to follow us?” Impulse asks. “With sheep or… cows,” he grimaces at the memory of what Tango just ate for dinner, “you can lead them with wheat, but he’s– this is _Tango_ , not some animal.”

Zedaph hums. “I’m not sure. I think I have leads in my inventory somewhere, but I don’t really want to have to use them on him…” A figurative lightbulb goes off, and Zedaph brightens. “Wait a second. Come this way with me,” he says. He tugs Impulse away from Tango, and past another couple of trees.

Impulse stumbles after him, confused. “What are you doing?”

Behind them, Tango whines, then bounds forward to follow them. Zedaph laughs, and Impulse grins. “Oh, I see.” Tango snuffles at the hem of Impulse’s shirt, then tries to stick his face up inside it. Impulse giggles and nudges him away.

“Let’s get him home.” Zedaph takes hold of Impulse’s hand once more, and together they lead Tango away from the fire and out of the forest.

* * *

It’s always slow, the waking.

Smooth sheets rustle against his skin as he stretches, groaning at the lingering ache in all his joints. His jaw aches and he tastes soot on the back of his tongue. Grimacing, Tango sits up and rolls toward the side of the bed, working his jaw and trying to cough out the glob of gross that sits in his throat. He hangs his head over the edge of the mattress, and opens his eyes.

He looks right at a scrap of fabric on the floor. The sight makes his blood run cold.

It’s one of Impulse’s shirts. Or, _was_ . It’s torn and scorched and bloody, and Tango tenses so hard that it hurts. He remembers, he remembers Impulse and Zedaph ignoring his pleas, coming closer; he remembers them touching him, trying to soothe him as he fell unconscious; he remembers _pain_ , indescribable, all-encompassing pain, and he remembers screaming his throat raw before he no longer had the right parts to make those sounds. Tango remembers a flash of green in his vision, remembers a voice nearby.

He remembers catching the scent of _prey_.

Tango whimpers and scoots back onto the bed, clutching his head. Flashes of memory assault him: gathering an inferno, expelling it. The thrill of the chase. The stench, the _taste_ of burning flesh. Tango shudders, his stomach rolling in discomfort and bile crawling up his throat. He isn’t hungry. He’s _always_ hungry, after.

God, _no_. Please, please, no.

Tango looks back across the blankets at that shred of fabric, and a pit opens in his chest where his heart should be. He sucks in a ragged breath, immediately coughing out a torn sob and squeezing his eyes shut. No, no, _no_ . He killed them. He _killed_ them. He murdered his best friends and he– he– He feels like he’s going to throw up. He feels like he’s going to die. He _deserves_ to, for this.

He never, _never_ wanted this.

Tango curls up into a tiny ball, shoulders trembling and chest heaving with the force of every cry that rips from him. The world narrows to just this, just this anguish. He never should have joined Hermitcraft. He never should have gotten close with these people, with– with– with _them_ . He should have stayed in the horrible little hole he crawled out of. He should have controlled himself better. He should have never let himself think he deserved this life, deserved a _family_.

Why would anyone ever want an awful, murderous _monster_ like him?

It was only a matter of time, now, for the rest of the hermits to find out. If they didn’t already know. They probably saw the– the _death messages_ , Tango forces himself to think, his heart breaking. In the chat, they probably saw the death messages. What would those have said? Would they be branded with his name, like the criminal, the evil horror that he is? Would he simply be banned, or would Xisuma and the others have a worse fate in store for him? Tango doesn’t even know what could be worse than banning, except for this. This awful ache in his chest, the terrible knowledge of what he’s done. God. Zedaph, Impulse…

Tango lets out a dreadful wail. He digs his fingernails into the tender skin at the nape of his neck, desperate to alleviate the pain, or make it worse to further punish himself. Zedaph, Impulse. He killed them. Did they realize that it was him? They had to have known. They had to have known. They never– he never told them–

He loved them. He _killed them_ …

Something pries his hands away from his neck. Someone’s hands smooth his hair out of his face. Someone’s hands rub across his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tension held there. Tango shakes, and cries, and someone’s voice whispers soothing nonsense against his ear. An arm slides underneath him, and knuckles dig in next to his spine, right on a knotted muscle and it hurts, but in a different way to this atrocious agony; it’s a familiar ache. The knuckles work against the knot and then a flat palm slides over it, and suddenly all the tension drains out of him and he’s balling his hands up in a familiar soft shirt, and there’s a warm weight pressed against his back, and there are calloused hands in his hair and lips on his forehead and on the crescent marks left on the back of his neck.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. You’re alright,” A low voice murmurs. Tango shudders. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He doesn’t want this to be a dream. Those hands are touching him all over, anywhere they can reach, stroking him and pacifying his tremoring tears. Someone lays a kiss to his temple. Tango heaves in a deep, gasping breath. He cracks one eye open.

Zedaph is lying in front of him, watching him with a worried little smile. Tango’s heart stops. He opens his other eye, blinks, and sniffles. “Hey, you,” Zedaph’s voice is as even and soothing as it always has been, and right now it’s a balm on Tango’s soul.

“We were getting pretty worried about you,” Impulse says from behind him.

Tango tries to twist around to look at him, but Zedaph has both arms around him. “Please,” he chokes out, “please, I need to see–”

Zedaph lets him go, and Tango turns over and looks at Impulse with wide eyes. Hand shaking so hard he can barely move it the direction he wants it to go, he reaches up toward Impulse’s face. Impulse takes his hand in his own, steadying it, and brings it to rest cupped against his cheek.

There’s not a scratch on him that Tango can see. Not on either of them. Tango turns onto his back, bringing his other hand up to lay against Impulse’s face, while with the other he reaches to Zedaph. Zedaph smiles at him, his pretty violet eyes seeming to sparkle even in the low light of the room. Tango looks back at Impulse and his soft brown eyes watching so carefully, so full of relief. Tango presses his lips together, his chin starts to wobble, and then he’s crying again. Impulse and Zedaph look on in surprise, but move in to comfort him again, soft lips against his face and hair, and softer words filling the space between the three of them.

They’re alive.

They’re alive, they’re _here_ and Tango didn’t hurt them, Tango didn’t kill them. They’re here, and they were worried about him, and they’re smiling at him, and they’re kissing him, and they’re–

They’re kissing him??! They’re kissing him. Zedaph and Impulse are kissing him. Repeatedly. All over his face. And his hair. And anywhere else they can reach. They’re kissing him. They are both kissing him.

Shocked, Tango completely stops crying. Impulse and Zedaph keep touching him, _kissing_ him, petting his hair and _kissing him_. Impulse kisses next to the corner of his eye, catching a leftover tear. Tango’s breath hitches. His mouth hangs open, and he stares at the ceiling, and Zedaph kisses his cheek while Impulse nuzzles into his hair.

“You’re alright,” Zedaph whispers against Tango’s skin. Impulse hums. Tango draws in his first full breath in a while. It only shakes a little bit on the way back out.

“How are you feeling?” Impulse asks. He partially disentangles himself from the knot of limbs the three of them have become, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Tango. He blinks heavily, dazed and wondering at the softness in Impulse’s eyes

“...” The first time he tries to speak, the only sound to come out is an ugly little croak. Impulse smiles patiently, and Tango clears his throat and tries again. “I’m… I’m okay,” he says. He doesn’t feel totally okay, but now he attributes it more to the fact that he’s just cried his dumb little heart out after a really rough transformation.

“Are you sure?” Zedaph doesn’t bother to move from where he has his face tucked up against the side of Tango’s.

Tango doesn’t want to nod and disrupt him. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Impulse nods and leans down to gently press a kiss to his forehead. Tango’s eyes slide closed, and he sighs heavily. Zedaph’s lips curl against his cheek, and Impulse moves only far enough to kiss along his hairline, and Tango is conflicted and can’t decide which touch to turn toward. Impulse curves around him, settles against the sheets, and when Zedaph slides his hand over to lay on Tango’s chest Impulse does the same.

Tango watches their fingers fold together so perfectly, feels the warm weight of their hands on him and their bodies next to his, and drifts back to sleep.

* * *

Ren drops into a play bow, his long fur shifting in the breeze that Tango can just barely feel on his scales, and without more warning than that he bounds forward. Tango waits, tense, until Ren gets close, then spreads his wings and leaps into the air. With a handful of powerful beats, he’s well above the ground, and Ren barks and runs around in circles beneath him. Tango hisses a laugh, gliding around and then back down. As soon as he lands, Ren pounces on him and starts chewing on his horns. He practically has to stand on Tango’s face to reach them, but Tango doesn’t really mind. He can see Ren’s tail going a mile a minute, and he hisses again. Ren yaps in excitement and hops off of him, running around in tight circles so fast that he’s practically falling over himself.

From across the field, Tango can hear Zedaph and Impulse laughing at Ren’s antics. Doc is steadfastly ignoring the shenanigans, or so it seems; even he has a grin on his face as he tweaks some redstone for an Area 77 project. Tango watches Ren for a moment, then steps just so to trip him up. Ren gets a mouthful of coarse dirt when he goes down. Impulse and Zedaph are howling, and Doc starts to snicker in amusement. Ren whines, but his tail is still wagging, so Tango isn’t too concerned about it.

Ren is still excitable, but Tango is getting tired, so he turns and lumbers toward where Impulse and Zedaph are sitting. The two are seated with their backs against the thick trunk of one of the few trees that didn’t get chopped down upon Area 77’s development. Tango paces around it a couple of times, then drops heavily into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. Impulse and Zedaph cough and wave the dust away, and try to scowl at him around their smiles. They can’t stay mad at him, though, and he huffs smugly when they give in and start patting his face.

“Hey there, handsome,” Impulse says. “You sure gave Ren the runaround.” Tango snorts and leans into his boyfriends’ touches. Impulse laughs. Zedaph grins at the two of them, looking across the field to where Ren is currently bounding around Doc and trying to get him to play.

Zedaph looks over at Tango when he groans. “What?” He strokes the scales on the ridge over Tango’s eye, and Tango’s eyes slide closed as he rumbles in contentment. “Was I not giving you enough attention? What a grave mistake. I’m terribly sorry.”

Impulse laughs and elbows him in the side. “Don’t encourage him, you know his ego is big enough already.”

“Well _you_ call him handsome all the time. I’d say it’s not me doing all the ego boosting here.”

Tango sighs and shifts his head so he’s poking Impulse in the stomach with his nose. Impulse rolls his eyes and rubs at the spot between Tango’s eyes that always makes him melt. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you big butt.”

Still petting Tango’s face, Zedaph leans against Impulse. He’s been trying not to nod off, but now that Tango is sitting with them it’s even harder to stave off sleep. Impulse slides his free hand into Zedaph’s hair and guides him into laying down in his lap. Tango snuffles a little bit at the lost contact, but isn’t inclined to move any further. Zedaph falls asleep quickly. Impulse leans against the side of Tango’s face, close to following.

Tango hums lowly, and Impulse lets his eyes close, too. No sense in staying awake when both his boyfriends are well on their way to a long afternoon nap.

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to Duchess and BastardBin for completely changing my plans and enabling the angst.


End file.
